Chapter Three—Homecoming

They had come up short across the street from Ali’s manor. Tired from travelling, Shiro just wanted a meal, a hot bath and a good night’s sleep.

But they had been wary when travelling back into Darshuun.

“We must be careful,” Ali had said. “I never gave them my true name, but still they may know who I am.”

Shiro had nodded his ascent.

Razul was quite cavalier about their return, but he did not know about the events preceding their departure. At least not the details of which.

The sun was setting, casting hot bars of bright orange clouds across the skies and a dark purple began to seep in like dye spreading through water.

They crossed the busy streets together. As a group of four men, it wasn’t out of place to be as they were, with their faces covered.

“All right,” Ali said as they approached the door in the alleyway. “We must check the house. Be ready.”

Shiro nodded. He thought it wise that Ali had chosen the side door inside the alley. They were less conspicuous and if things went poorly, they could climb the vines running up the sides of the buildings and get to the first story roofs in the area for a quick escape.

Ali touched the hilt of his scimitar and tried for the door handle. Of course, it was locked. Turning, he said as much. “Shiro, do you know how to pick a lock?”

“I do,” Razul said.

Ali frowned. “Truly?”

“Indeed,” Razul said. “Watch!”

He lunged at the door, connecting his heel with the part near the handle. There was a loud crack and Ali back-stepped.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m picking your lock!” Razul said, then kicked the door again. It broke in half and fell inward, revealing the entry corridor.

“You said you could pick the lock!” Ali yelled as he gestured to the door. “You did not say you would start smashing my door!”

“You’re rich,” Razul said in way of explanation. “You can buy another door.” Then he stepped over the broken wood and went inside.

Debaku went next, turned and shrugged at Ali. “You can buy a new door.”

“Gods,” Ali muttered. “I cannot believe this. What part of careful do you not understand?”

He glanced at Shiro, but he didn’t know what to say. A broken door was better than being stuck outside trying to figure out a way inside.

Shrugging, Shiro stared at his friend, who shook his head and followed Debaku and Razul into the manor.

Someone screamed—a woman.

A horrible thrill seemed to shoot through Ali, because he jumped. “Oh no!” He ran forward.

Shiro passed Debaku as he trailed Ali into the house. But it was only Kuafa, screaming in fright at the unknown face of Razul.

“Nonono!” Ali said, raising his hands. “This is Razul! He is a guest!”

“Aaaahhh!” Kuafa screamed and recoiled. “Do not come any closer, you devils!”

“Oh!” Ali shouted and removed his face covering. “Kuafa! It is me! It is Ali!”

She froze, eyes wide. “Master Ali?”

“Yes!”

Then her face went from fear and shock to stupid, before a huge smile came out. “Master Ali! You have returned!”

“Master?” Juri asked as she entered the room, a knife still in her hand. She had been the mistress of the house staff as far as Shiro knew.

“Yes, yes,” Ali said. “I am back. You can all settle down,” he said. Then he turned to Razul. “Lower your face covering, you fool.”

With a relaxed gesture, Razul did as Ali bid, but he ignored the servants and Ali’s’ homecoming and walked past the two women and went into the kitchens.

Then someone started stamping down the steps. They were heavy footsteps. Not that of the servants.

Shiro’s heart jumped in his chest and his hand instinctually went to his sword. A raspy scream followed as a cat eye lunged into the main corridor with his sword out.

Revealing his blade completely, Shiro and Debaku both moved as the cat eye lifted his arm to slash at them, but Juri turned and shouted. “Stop! Stop! This is mater Ali—he has returned from his journey, you furry barbarian!”

“What?!” the cat eye hissed, his large yellow eyes wide.

Ali stopped his cringing and glanced at the cat eye. “Naro? Is that you?”

The cat eye chuckled with a nod. “Yes, Master Ali!”

“Naro!” Ali said, smiling like a madman. Then his face turned into a snarl. “Naro, you furry-slit-eyed-good-for-nothing-piece-of-rat-dung!” He brandished his sword. “I’m going to gut you for abandoning me!”

“What? No, Master, I did not abandon you—I swear!”

Kuafa glanced at Ali’s blade and cried out as she lunged back. But Juri, the head servant moved between Naro and Ali. “Master Ali, no!”

Coming up short, Ali said, “Out of the way, woman!”

“Stop!” another voice came.

Shiro recognized that voice.

Hafza sauntered into the corridor and put her hand on the wall.

“Hafza!” Ali called, his eyes widening as his face cracked into a smile. “Wait, what are you doing here? It is dangerous? And who is that woman at your side?”

“That is my sister, Laleh, you fool!”

“Oh,” Ali said dumbly. “I know that.”

He seemed to have forgotten about Naro for a moment, but then Hafza said, “Do not kill Naro, husband. The only reason why he did not return before was because he was being hunted by the sultan’s Scorpion Guard.”

“Scorpion Guard?” Razul asked from the kitchen door. Then he bit loudly into the red apple in his hand. “A lot has happened while I was away.”

Hafza glanced over her shoulder. “I see you brought your trouble-making brother back with you.”

“We need him,” Ali said. “And you are supposed to be in Omassi—where you will return at once.”

“I will not,” Hafza said dangerously.

“But…” Ali said, glancing about. “Wife—if is for your own good.”

“No!” She said through gritted teeth as she balled her fists.

“Uh—yes, yes, well we will speak of this later. Can you not see we have guests?” He laughed nervously.

Hafza glanced about. Then with a nod, she said, “Yes, Ali—we will speak of this later. Hello, Shiro.”

Swallowing against the knot in his throat, Shiro nodded to Hafza. “It is good to see you.” He hadn’t known her well, but knew well enough that she was in no mood for levity or a happy homecoming.

Not now.

“You too,” she said, her tone lighter than he had expected. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Then she turned and left the corridor, heading to some part of the house far from where they were—probably.

Ali glanced at Shiro and chuckled and shrugged. “Homecoming.”

“So much for being discrete,” Debaku said. “I am certain your neighbors know you are here.”

“Agh!” Ali noised with a wave of his hand. “If the Sultan knew it was me, this house would be in the hands of the army by now. He knows nothing.”

Ali turned to Juri, who breathed in a deep lungful of air as she smiled. “I will prepare a large meal for your homecoming master, for you and your guests.”

“Good,” Ali said with a smile. Then he turned to Naro. “I expect detailed explanations that back up your story, slave.”

“Yes, Master,” Naro said with a nod.

Ali could be harsh in his words and threats, but Shiro knew that by and large, he treated his slaves and servants well.

“Now where is useless boy, Nusah?”

Laleh, who was still in the corridor, said, “Oh, Hafza sent him out to do errands.”

Ali nodded.

“Come on, everyone! Cheer up! I am home! We will have a grand feast! We must have music and dancing girls!”

No one said anything.

Razul bit into his apple again.